[BL] Oops! I Seduced My Sister's Fiance (And Now I'm Pregnant) Chapter 33: The First Dance

The reception starts imdiately after the ceremony.

Guests filter from the ceremonial space into an adjoining hall that’s been transford into sothing out of a magazine spread. Tables draped in silk, centerpieces of white roses and deep blue hydrangeas, a dance floor polished to a mirror shine, and enough champagne towers to supply a small country.

Bael and I stand near the entrance as people begin approaching to offer congratulations.

The first couple is older, clearly important based on how others defer to them as they pass. The alpha extends his hand to Bael.

"Congratulations, Bael. A beautiful ceremony."

"Thank you, Director Yan." Bael shakes his hand smoothly, then turns to . "This is my spouse, Runze. Runze, Director Yan and his wife oversee our manufacturing division."

"A pleasure to et you," I say with that practiced smile.

Mrs. Yan takes my hand with surprising warmth. "Such a lovely ceremony. You look absolutely radiant."

"You’re very kind, thank you."

Director Yan has already pulled Bael slightly aside, lowering his voice to discuss what sounds like a supply chain issue. Mrs. Yan doesn’t seem bothered by this, turning her full attention to instead.

"I have to say," she says conspiratorially, "the dia has been absolutely vicious, don’t let them get to you, dear. Half of them wouldn’t know a real love story even if it bit them."

I’m not sure if she actually believes that or if she’s just being kind, but I appreciate it either way.

"I’ve learned not to read the comnts," I reply lightly.

"Wise. Very wise." She pats my hand. "My daughter went through sothing similar when she married. Different circumstances, but the vultures are always circling. It passes eventually."

From the corner of my eye, I can see Bael nodding at sothing Director Yan is saying, but his attention flicks to briefly, like he’s keeping track of my conversation while managing his own.

Another couple approaches as the Yans move on, then another, and another.

The pattern repeats: Bael introduces us, makes polite conversation with one half of the couple while I handle the other. So are genuinely pleasant, others clearly sizing up, trying to figure out what kind of person manages to trap a Wuchen heir.

I smile through all of it.

Then Uncle Wuchen Ming appears.

I recognize him imdiately from the photos Grandmother showed during prep. Mid-fifties, handso in a way that probably served him well in his youth, wearing an expensive suit and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Nephew." He approaches Bael with open arms like they’re close, though Bael’s posture goes rigid the mont he spots him. "Congratulations on your marriage."

"Uncle." Bael’s voice is perfectly polite and completely cold.

Uncle Ming either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He turns that smile on and sothing in my stomach twists uncomfortably.

"And you must be Runze." He takes my hand before I can offer it, holding it just a fraction too long. "Such a beauty. No wonder Bael’s been hiding you away."

The words sound complintary but feel wrong sohow, like there’s another aning underneath that I’m not ant to catch but definitely do.

"I’m not sure I’ve been hidden," I say carefully, extracting my hand. "More like... strategically unavailable."

His laugh is loud and hearty. "Clever too. Bael, you certainly chose well."

Bael’s jaw tightens imperceptibly. "Thank you for coming, Uncle."

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world." Uncle Ming’s eyes sweep over again in a way that makes my skin crawl. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Runze. We’re family now, after all."

The emphasis on "family" feels like a threat disguised as warmth.

"Of course," I manage.

He claps Bael on the shoulder with false joviality and moves on, but the shudder that runs through lingers even after he’s gone.

"Ignore him," Bael murmurs quietly.

"Hard to ignore soone who makes you feel like you need a shower."

His lips twitch despite the tension still in his shoulders. "Fair."

More introductions follow. Business partners, investors, society figures whose nas I’m supposed to rember but are starting to blur together. Each one requires the sa performance: smile, be gracious, answer questions without revealing anything real.

It’s exhausting.

By the ti the coordinator announces the first dance, I’m ready to collapse.

"Showti," Bael says quietly, offering his hand.

I take it and let him lead onto the dance floor.

The music starts, sothing classical and romantic that was probably chosen months ago when this dance was supposed to be his and Feifei’s.

Bael’s hand settles on my waist, pulling into the proper position, his other hand takes mine.

"Rember to smile," he says. "The caras are everywhere."

"I’ve been smiling for three hours straight. My face is going to freeze like this."

"Then you’ll make a very attractive statue."

We move together smoothly, the steps coming naturally thanks to Grandmother’s drilling. To anyone watching, we probably look perfect...the powerful CEO and his beautiful oga, moving in sync like we’ve done this a thousand tis.

"You’re surprisingly good at this," I say after a mont.

"At dancing?"

"At playing the devoted husband."

His hand on my waist tightens slightly. "It’s not that different from playing the devoted CEO. Sa principle, look the part, say the right things, and make sure everyone believes it."

"How romantic."

"It’s practical." His thumb brushes against my lower back, subtle enough that only I notice. "Though I could say the sa about you."

"About what?"

"Playing the blushing bride."

"I’m not blushing."

"You are now."

I resist the urge to step on his foot. Barely.

The music swells and he spins smoothly, pulling back with perfect timing. For the caras, for the guests, for the image of the perfect wedding.

"We look convincing," he says quietly.

"That’s the goal, isn’t it?"

"Yes." His voice is neutral, giving nothing away. "That’s exactly the goal."

The song ends and applause ripples through the crowd. Bael releases , keeping one hand on my lower back as we turn to acknowledge the guests.

That’s when I notice him.

An oga standing near the far side of the room, partially obscured by one of the champagne towers. He’s beautiful in an understated way, sharp features, perfectly tailored charcoal suit that fits like it was made for him, lilac hair styled with careful precision.

But it’s not his appearance that catches my attention.

It’s the way he’s looking at us.

At specifically.

His expression is carefully neutral, but there’s sothing in his eyes. Assessnt, maybe, or curiosity. I can’t quite tell from this distance.

Our eyes et across the room.

He doesn’t look away, he takes a slow sip of wine and continues watching with that sa asured expression.

Who is that?

Before I can think about it further, several guests converge on us, all talking at once about how beautiful the dance was, how perfect we look together, how romantic the whole thing is.

I smile and thank them while Bael fields questions about the honeymoon we apparently have planned.

Through the cluster of people, I catch glimpses of the oga. He’s moved slightly, no longer hidden behind the champagne tower, still watching.

The crowd around us finally starts to disperse, people drifting back to their tables or toward the bar.

That’s when the oga starts walking toward us.

Not hurried, not obviously determined, just moving through the crowd with easy confidence, stopping occasionally to exchange brief greetings with other guests, but steadily getting closer.

I feel Bael go still beside .

Not obviously, just a subtle shift in his posture, a slight tension in his hand where it rests on my waist.

He’s noticed too.

The oga reaches us just as an elderly couple finishes telling us about their vacation ho in the South of France and wanders off toward the dessert table.

"Bael."

His voice is warm, familiar in a way that imdiately sets off alarm bells in my head.

Bael turns, and I watch his face carefully.

Surprise flashes across his expression. Genuine surprise, like he didn’t expect to see this person here.

But underneath the surprise is sothing else, sothing that looks almost like relief, or maybe gladness.

I can’t tell which.

"I was late by a few weeks because of work," the oga continues, smiling at Bael like I don’t exist. "But I’m glad I could make it to your wedding."

Bael’s hand tightens on my waist. Whether it’s possessive or a warning, I have no idea.

He returns the smile, and there’s a warmth in his expression that I haven’t seen directed at anyone else tonight. Not even .

"Xue Lian," Bael says.